


009

by Freedoms_Champion



Series: Human Dreams, Loric Souls [2]
Category: The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, Nine has a James Bond problem, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedoms_Champion/pseuds/Freedoms_Champion
Summary: Nine has a good dream for a change. There's no Mogs, no blood, and a pretty girl.Did she just say humans have psychic powers?
Relationships: Stanley Worthington | Number Nine/Other(s)
Series: Human Dreams, Loric Souls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771819
Kudos: 6





	009

Nine knew he was dreaming. Since his normal dreams were achingly wistful flashbacks of his life on Lorien and with Sandor or horrifyingly violent sequences of Mogs killing everything they could get their hands on, he was willing to let this dream play out.

He stood at a fancy-ass bar, the kind with marble as the décor foundation, with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. The ice cubes clinked slightly as he moved his hand. A mirror behind the bar showed him his reflection, which was all he needed to know this was a dream.

Nine never wore suits, even when he wasn’t locked in a Mogadorian prison. Now he was wearing a tux, his long black hair pulled into a ponytail instead of hanging raggedly. It had been nearly a year since he’d seen his own face and it surprised him how much older he looked.

Then again, he also looked like some guy out of Sandor’s beloved James Bond movies. Thinking that was like a punch in the gut and Nine quickly forced his eyes away from his reflection.

It gave him plenty of time to watch the girl walk up behind him.

Compared to him, she was small and slender. That meant about average for a human girl, plus heels. She wore a black dress, floor-length with a slit up one side that went above the knee. The loose skirt merged into a tight bodice, cut low, with tiny ruffled sleeves that left her shoulders mostly bare. Her dark hair was short but adorned with tiny sparkling pins.

Her eyes were only a few shades of blue lighter than loralite.

Hell, yeah. Nine could get used to dreams like this.

“See something you like?” she asked, negligently leaning an arm on the bar and curling her lips into a smile.

Nine sipped his drink, James Bond-style and tried to look cool. “Maybe. Is there a price for looking?” He ran his eyes over her again, because it was a dream and the Mogs couldn’t use to get to him.

Old white scars traced along her arms, probably defensive injuries. Another puckered patch of scar tissue on her upper arm was shiny pink and recent.

“What the hell? Can’t I have one nice dream for a change?” he complained. The girl smirked at him.

“You didn’t think this was just your dream, did you?” she countered. “I’ve been trying to get through for weeks, but your alien brain doesn’t seem to be on the right frequency.”

Nine shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts back into order. “Are you one of the Garde? I don’t understand, how can you be in my dream?”

“My name’s Tessa. I’m one hundred per cent human, thanks very much. Honestly, did you live here for ten years and fail to learn the basics of human physiology? I’m here through the psychic field generated by human life on earth?”

“But that’s not possible,” Nine said. “Humans don’t have psychic powers.”

“It’s a function of soul mating,” Tessa replied. “Look, I’m trying to figure out a way to spring you from Mog central, but I need your help. Anything you know about the prison you’re in and the Mogs guarding it would be really helpful.”

Nine felt like the ground was bobbing under his feet. Instead of a randomly nice dream, he was having a conversation with a psychic human who wanted to help him escape from a Mog prison. His head ached.

“Why does everything look like James Bond?” he asked, hoping that learning more about how it worked would ease his confusion.

“That’s on your end, buddy,” Tessa told him with a shrug. “My guess is, you have some serious unresolved issues regarding Mr. Bond, but I’m no expert. The only thing I’m interested in is getting the Mogs off my planet. You have to work with me, Nine. Maybe your people don’t have a soul mating process, but you’re stuck with me and we want the same thing.”

“How do you know my name?” The disorientation was getting worse. Nine could feel the bar under his elbows softening like mud.

“Because you left a mark on my soul,” she said. Nine glanced down and saw the silvery scar tissue on her ankle, so much like his own. There was the Loric symbol for Nine, the only thing left that described him.

The floor turned to quicksand and Nine slipped into it too fast to even shout. His eyes snapped open.

He was back in his cell, shaking and gasping for air.

For a moment, he couldn’t see what was wrong, but then he registered that the light in the tiny cell was wrong. The forcefield wasn’t glowing. He got up and edged over to the door, clenching his fists.

A boy looked back at him. Nine grinned. Weird dreams and possibly psychic humans could wait. He had some Mogs to kill.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, thanks for reading!
> 
> The Garde really have the worst time discovering that humans have soul mates and share dreams with them.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, have a fantastic day!


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